The Time Lord (Not Quite) Raised by Otters
by Dobby's Socks
Summary: Inspired by a line from "The Caretaker": "I lived among otters for a month. River and I, we had this big fight." Set between season six and season seven part two, no major spoilers, Doctor/River, rated for one curse word.


**I couldn't help myself. That line practically handed fanfic authors a story on a silver platter. Keeping that in mind, this is my take on the whole otter debacle referenced in "The Caretaker". Other versions exist, such as fics by betawho and cmartlover, and I encourage you to check those out as well. Without further ado, here's my addition and please enjoy!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**The Time Lord (Not Quite) Raised by Otters**

"River," the Doctor cajoled, finding himself in a position he hadn't been in for nearly all of his regenerations: appealing to his wife.

Funny how that tended to happen with increasing regularity when one got remarried. Although if he were being completely honest, he'd been vying for River's approval and or forgiveness on various matters long before that.

The Woman Who Married Him in question stood resolute by the doors. "Not tonight, Doctor. And I don't know how many times I've told you, I don't like to be materialized around."

He winced. No 'Sweetie', a bad sign if there ever was one. He'd been dithering between the controls and the stairs ever since she'd baffled him by coldly requesting to be returned to her cell and finally gave up his ground, coming to her.

"Alright, what have I done?" The sharp look she sent him signified it had come out more exasperated than he'd intended.

"So dropping me off at Stormcage a month after you were supposed warranted so little thought, then?" He winced again, wondering whether or not it would be a good idea to try and pass it off to some later version of himself. 'Spoilers' had done nothing good for his procrastination habits. But the expression the archeologist wore told him he wouldn't be fooling her one bit.

"A whole month?" He checked, voice rising near the end rather high.

"Yes, a whole month. The guards were in absolute uproar."

"Well what do they have to be so mad about, it's not like you aren't serving plenty of time already," he reasoned. The guards of Stormcage didn't concern him too much; he knew River had them practically wrapped around her finger. It was better for his health that he not think about them at all, as a matter of fact, because then he didn't have to think about all the free kisses being handed out to them. They didn't even appreciate how lucky they were.

"It's for you I'm serving the time at all, you idiot!" She snapped, clearly not appreciating his logic, and the Doctor sputtered for a moment. He couldn't very well tell her she'd earn her pardon and become a professor, because this River hadn't started working for a pardon yet and therefore it would be too early, even if he spoiled it later or rather earlier by telling her about being a professor back at the Byzantium after she'd started working for the pardon—damn, he really was terrible at this.

So he simply threw his arms about like usual, demanding, "What do you want, thank you? I'm sorry?"

"Oh, because that was sincere," she said with a short laugh that did not sound very happy or humorous at all. "And what exactly are you apologizing for, your atrocious piloting skills? That'd be the day."

He pointed accusingly at her. "That is not up for discussion. My ship, I fly her how I like."

"If you'd just align the helmic regulator with the temporal accelerator properly like I've told you to, we wouldn't need to be having this discussion," she persisted, and he turned from her with a scow,l taking the steps back up two at a time.

"We're not discussing it!"

"Then what are you doing?"

"As you asked, dear, I'm dropping you back off," he bit out.

She scoffed even as she followed him up to the controls. "Running away from the consequences, yet again. Must you always be a child?"

"Not all of us are preoccupied with getting old, Dr. Song." He pulled a lever sharply, causing the TARDIS to groan even louder than usual, almost drowning out her outraged gasp.

"You—!"

"Your cell awaits," he spoke right over, sweeping his arm mockingly towards the doors.

"Why don't you check," she said, voice calm but shaking slightly with suppressed anger.

"Fine," the Doctor said, dropping his arm and the nasty smile with it and stomping back down to the doors. "Not like you can't just give the guards your love if it's off a day or two."

"If you're insisting," she replied and he scowled all over again, making sure to slam the doors as he stepped out.

Into not Stormcage. "No, no, come on!" He whined, doing his best to keep his voice down. Was his ship trying to make him look like an idiot? This was about the furthest one could get from Stormcage! They'd parked on a riverbank in the early morning, possibly somewhere in Europe if this was Earth which he thought it was. All in all it was a rather nice spot. But not where he'd been aiming for and not where she'd wanted to go. He was in for it this time.

So the Doctor sighed heavily and turned on his heel. "Bit off course, River, probably something wrong with the alignment of the helmic regulat—oi!"

For the TARDIS was gone. Silently. Almost as if it had dematerialized with the brakes off…

The Doctor gaped for a solid minute. She couldn't have! "River. _Riv-ah!_"

His enunciation did nothing but cause a rustling in the thick vegetation slightly to his right, which had him whirling to face it, sonic at the ready. "Whoever you are, I mean no harm and am merely, ehm, visiting your planet. We can talk about this. Just show yourself."

Out of the tall grasses and reeds popped an otter. The sonic drooped. "Oh." He scratched at his cheek with his spare hand for a moment. "You wouldn't happen to be the intelligent life forms on this planet, would you? Once thought I'd landed on Planet of the Chickens. Turned out we were all just headed for Singapore, but you know, that's life."

The otter merely pointed its nose to its left. "What's that? Something happening over that way?" He guessed, pointing at the river. The river. "Ah, yes thank you, I did notice it was that way, but you see I was speaking about a different river—my River."

His new semiaquatic mammalian acquaintance shuffled back a few feet, eyes narrowing disapprovingly. "No, no, no, I don't mean a different territory group. My River's a sort of tall, up-and-downy person. More hair, less fur. Like me. Part of my family group if you believe it. Only the group's a bit not here at the moment."

The otter let him ramble on like this until he stopped. Then it rose up on its hind legs and gave a loud chirp that had the Doctor cringing and stumbling back a step. It sounded like a particularly squeaky wheel.

A series of chirps and squeaks started up all around them that had him spinning one way and then the other to track the noise and movement as the vegetation began rustling anew. Five little otter pups came into sight, and if his eyes weren't deceiving him another full-grown one was peering out of the grass at him. "Hi fellas," he greeted as they clambered over his shoes and around him.

The first otter went about nudging the playful pups into some semblance of order, ushering them back towards the den he thought. Then she got behind and bumped at the backs of his legs to get _him_ moving.

"Oh no, no thank you. Your hospitality is much appreciated, but I should probably wait here. She'll be right back," he protested even as he started forward into the grasses.

She wasn't.

OoO

"Most women content themselves with exiling their spouses to the couch for a night," the Doctor groused as he sat on the riverbank, opening the shellfish that had been caught by his fellows. "What do I get? Otters. Otters!"

He earned a slap over the back of the head with a tail for this slight. You couldn't get anything past an otter. Rubbing at it absently, he returned to his work.

His shoes and socks had been shucked long ago. Useless trying to keep them dry. His trousers were rolled up to the knees and caked in all types of mud and grass stains that he'd forgotten the exact shade they'd started out as. His shirt was untucked and missing a few buttons, but he'd tenaciously kept hold of his bowtie, tattered as it was.

The single, loud chirp was sounded, and he gathered up his work, following Donna—the slapper—back to the den. His adopted otter family had been rather accommodating in allowing him to designate names, seeing as he was rather rubbish at the chirping and such.

Down the bank, Jamie took one last slide into the water, tumbling into Zoe, and the two play-wrestled for a moment longer before scurrying to join them. Just as the Doctor was about to duck under the low-lying branches at the entrance of the den, Ace tackled him to the ground from behind. The other pups all chuckled and jostled each other in return, the cheeky blighters. Sarah Jane even prodded at his foot once with her paw. Sarah Jane Otter!

A brief grunt put them to rights, and so the Doctor sat back cross-legged. "Thanks, Barbara," he said to the matriarch of their little family group.

Barbara had had a good hunt it seemed, for there was plenty to go around for the other pups. He had managed to refrain from taking part in meals so far, although even his lack of appetite was being stretched to the limit at this point. In order to avoid offending the adult female, however, he was forced daily to submit to a different ritual.

The Doctor rested his chin in his hand, elbow braced on his knee as Barbara the otter began combing through his hair. Due to his excessive chattering he had been deemed a pup as well, seeing as adult otters reserved sounds mostly for more amorous intentions.

He could hear River's laughter as clearly in his mind as if he'd listened to it yesterday.

This designation had likely saved him from conflict however, in the form of the male otter that hung about the den, clearly intent on the mother otter. He'd subsequently been dubbed Charterton.

The pups were now gorging themselves on shellfish, which were not in short supply due to his rather expert opening skills if he did say so himself. Since he couldn't very well hunt in the water, it was his contribution.

Once finished, the pups began grooming themselves and each other, Barbara moving on to Ace and then herself due to the small amount of time he required. Sarah Jane and Donna nudged each of his hands with their heads, prompting him to take part.

The Doctor, here to groom otters. When had life turned to this?

And how long exactly was his infernal wife planning to keep it that way?

OoO

There were bad days, particularly when it rained and shelter for a Time Lord sized individual was hard to come by. He couldn't very well hog the whole den for hours, not to mention how uncomfortable that might get. On those days the Doctor sat under a tree, pushing his sopping hair out of his eyes every so often, and grumbled in a low voice about wives and piloting mistakes and just about everything under the sun, especially otters. The pups knew not to try to play with him then. Charterton was the only one to join him, growling low in his throat in shared frustration.

So maybe he was sulking and still being the oh-so-dreadful _childish_, but it was his ship and she had just left him and he missed—

The stars, the peoples and creatures, the universe. Not her. He most definitely did not miss River Song on those days.

Then there were the better ones, ones where he could marvel at the lives of otters. The joy and fulfillment they got out of life, the care they gave to each other and him, the way Barbara would guide the littlest pup Ace to swim like the truest of mothers, the grace with which they moved on the hunt to feed their little family.

And the fun they had! There was nothing quite like going down a otter-made water slide with Jamie and Zoe, and he could be sure this was a story that Rory would shake his head at in disbelief and Amy would split her sides laughing over.

They would, he knew, if he ever got to tell them.

For there were times when the otters would rest, and the Doctor would lie awake listening to Donna snuffle in her sleep, just a few of his beloved stars peeping through the dark or early morning light between the branches covering the den, so far off and distant from this one tiny otter-corner of the universe. He supposed he'd accidentally provided the perfect consequence to be faced with: exile, again. At least he'd had the Old Girl with him the last time. Now he was left to wait.

And wait and wait and wait. He hated waiting. He knew River did, too, and he wondered if this what Stormcage was like for her, only with otters. Never knowing if he would show up that night, or the next, or the next. Being left behind when or where she wasn't supposed to be.

She wasn't the only one he'd wronged in that way. Whenever his thoughts trended that way, as they often did, he pet Sarah Jane on her sleek brown head and told her, "Sorry about Aberdeen."

The otter pup blinked sleepily at him, nuzzled his hand, and closed her eyes again.

And during the nights, he missed her. Of course he missed her, how could he not? The sound of her voice, whether in English or Gallifreyan, he wasn't picky. Her cloud of curls and smooth skin, her normal Time Lord size. Her wit, her knowledge, her madcap idea of a night on the town. Her guns and the fire in her eyes when she grew angry, even with him.

He regretted every harsh word he'd spoken and the careless way he'd treated her concerns. He was furious at being trapped in one time and place, however justified, away from her and anyone else. He did his best to recall every single detail about her, however insignificant, from the way she took her tea to the quirk of her lips that always came right before she kissed him. But above all, he missed her.

OoO

"Alright, ready?" A chorus of chirps and squeaks sounded above him and he pushed off, down the muddy slide headfirst with the pack of pups clinging to the back of his shirt. A living otter toboggan.

They were all dislodged in the resulting splash, rolling and kicking up to the surface. The Doctor came up, shaking his hair out and finding his footing as he watched them all swim downstream.

"Having fun, my love?"

He slipped on the stones coating the bottom, coming back up coughing and facing the river bank. And the River on the river bank. His River.

She was leaned casually against the doors of the TARDIS, looking for all the world like she'd only stepped out for a brief moment. His blue box and bespoke psychopath. Never had he wanted to hug something so much.

Instead, the Doctor swam over to the bank with practiced ease and affected an equally nonchalant air. "Who, me? Sure. How about you, done sulking then?"

"Are you?" She arched an eyebrow, undeniably amused.

At this, he couldn't help a small amount of the bitterness that had built up, leaking into his tone as he replied, "Yeah, well, bit hard to sulk for a solid month, River, even for me. Short attention span and all that."

He'd scrabbled up onto dry land and stood just in time to see her stiffen. "A whole month?"

"Yes, a whole month." He ducked his head, squeezing his eyes shut. Why did he have to be smart about this? Hadn't the whole point of this been to learn something. In a lighter tone he managed, "Very poetic of you, I'll admit."

But when he looked, River still seemed uncomfortable. Actually, nervous. "Sweetie…something might have gone wrong with the temporal accelerant."

He blinked. "Sorry?"

The Child of the TARDIS seemed just as thrown as he was. "I wasn't trying for a month. I thought four days ought to do it."

"Four days?" He repeated, incredulous.

"Mum and dad said that was your limit," she defended.

"No, no, no, four days? Just four days?" With each repetition a tremulous smile slowly grew on his face. Four days. She'd only meant the four days.

"Yes, four days!" She confirmed. It seemed the only words they were able to say. River shifted a step forward and then rocked back, taking his disheveled appearance in and shaking her head. "Goodness, Doctor, was it really a month? What's here apart from the otters, I didn't even check."

"Trees, fish," he informed her helpfully, eyes darting about the landscape he'd become so familiar with.

The archeologist was the picture of stunned, even mortified. He felt privileged; not many people could say they'd seen Dr. River Song looking anything but composed. "Just the otters?"

His tattered trousers had managed to retain their pockets, and he slipped his hands in, looking at her from under his rather tousled fringe. "Oh yeah."

There was a pause as each regarded the other. Then he wasn't sure who started laughing first.

They cut off at the sound of rustling in the grasses, River tensing. But the Doctor turned with a smile. "Ah, here we are!"

The pups were all chirping curiously, but the matriarch of the group seemed more uncertain. He walked over, crouching down. "Hey, it's alright. Just my family group—well, part of it. Bit more mobile, see, and they've just got back. Nothing to worry about, Barbara."

"Barbara?" River was clearly holding back on laughing this time, though he glanced back to see her actively pressing her lips together to keep it in.

He ignored her. Honestly, didn't she realize how hard this was going to be for him? "I've got to get a move on, though. You'll be alright, got on just fine without me before. So, um, thanks. For everything." He pet her head and she nuzzled against his hand. Blinking rapidly, he moved on.

"Jamie, look after your sisters. Zoe, keep him in line. That's it." The two bumped at him playfully, probably trying to knock him over again. He batted them away gently.

"Ace—what's this?" The little pup had dropped a shellfish at his feet. "Oh fine, one more," he conceded, cracking it open for her. She snatched it back up before the others could get ideas.

"Sarah Jane," he said warmly, scooping her up in a quick hug. She squirmed and then cuddled into it, squeaking sadly when he placed her down. He stroked the fur on her head once and turned to the last pup.

"Donna, lay it on me." Holding out his hand, Donna slapped at it with her tail. "Nice!"

And finally, he nodded to the nose and eyes just poking out of the grass. "Charterton, good luck, mate."

When he jumped back up and turned around, River had a hand pressed over her mouth, eyes twinkling merrily. She managed to lower it and shake her head with a wide smile. "Ready, then?"

"You know I don't like sticking around after goodbyes." So with that, he followed her at last into his ship, the doors shutting on his temporary outdoor home. And yet even as everything looked and felt the same inside the police box, it was strange to have smooth flooring under his bare feet and vents blowing regulated temperature air through the control room.

The TARDIS hummed brightly. "Oh, happy to see me, are you? You couldn't have been happy twenty-six days ago, eh?" He accused, marching up to the controls. He received no reply, of course.

"I suppose even the best ships—and pilots—make mistakes from time to time," River ventured, and he turned to see her halfway up the steps, watching him closely. "Forgiven?"

The Doctor drew in a deep breath. He could think of a million and one reasons why his answer should be a 'no' and most of them started with the word 'otters'.

But instead, he released that breath. "River Song. Always and completely."

And despite his damp, mud stained, scruffy, truly raggedy state, she came the rest of the way right up to him with that wicked smile, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him long and deep.

It was better than he'd remembered.

**So that's it, folks. Much Wikipedia and googling went into this, but if any of my otter facts/actions are wrong I apologize for I am by no means an expert. Still, I had quite a bit of fun writing this, and I hope you had fun reading. I'd love to know your thoughts, thanks for reading, and please review!**


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